


Leave Your Past Behind

by Dashboardjuliet



Series: Beginnings [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, game level violence, kind of?, maybe not as graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-02 19:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashboardjuliet/pseuds/Dashboardjuliet
Summary: She’s amazed that she doesn’t actually seize up and stop walking in shock. Because standing only a few feet off to the side is John, and suddenly she is not 29 but 22, and the memory hits her like a freight train.-She's had run ins with John Seed before, when he still went by John Duncan, and never thought she would find him again in Hope County. How does she reconcile the man she spent five years of her life with, with the man that stands in front of her now?





	1. This City/Sex

**Author's Note:**

> I am making no fucking promises on how much of this I will write but by god for this moment I'm gonna be writing this.

“Jonah…”

“John…”

\---

-Hope County, Montana, 2018-

     Junior Deputy Jonah Bouche doesn’t have a particularly strong feeling for rural Montana. She’s always been a city girl, never one to really care about the wide open rolling hills and rocky steps that scatter the landscape. Maybe it has to do with the fact that she doesn’t fully consider Montana home, just a place that came with her job. Home will always be New Orleans with its muggy air and soul, and its people. She misses the people. So diverse and full of life. All she has around her now are quiet hill folk that prefer their country music over anything even remotely exciting. Watching the landscape pass underneath the helicopter, Jonah knows that she should be listening to what is being relayed to the Marshal, although if she’s being honest, they’ve covered most of the important stuff back at base on the outskirts of Hope. Anything else will just serve to make her more nervous. Even though he’s seasoned, and she’s hardly known him for a half a year, she can tell Whitehorse is nervous too. Hell, maybe they all are, save for Burke.

     He must feel it, she thinks, as they land in the little compound that Eden’s Gate has claimed and built for themselves. She has trouble steadying herself as they exit out the helicopter into the hostile environment, eyes watching them from every corner. Hudson glances back at her with a quirked eyebrow, then returns her gaze forward. Jonah blushes for a moment, her stumble caught, before walking quickly to catch up with their small pack. Together, they’re safer. Together, she feels a little bit of peace in the mission Burke has decided to lead them on, feels safer when the glares and open hostility is focused on all of them instead of just her. Steeling herself, Jonah straightens and follows to the small steeple at the center of their compound, following behind Hudson. For a minute, with eyes fixed on the white siding of the chapel, Jonah doubts every decision that has led her here. She hadn’t been moving up the chain fast enough for her liking in New Orleans, but at least there they didn’t deal with militaristic cults convinced the world was about to end. The worst of their problems were theft and drunks, maybe a few break ins at cemeteries. She could deal with those.

     The singing chills her. Amazing Grace is a beautiful song when sung right. Now it is a haunting anthem for something that she isn’t sure she wants to see to the finish. The cuffs hang heavy on her side as they enter the church, Burke and Whitehorse first, with Hudson at the door, gifting her with a silent pat on the shoulder as a parting gift. The sham they call prophet is giving a sermon as they enter, the doors creaking only slightly. Pews filled, and each face turns to their entrance. Jonah swallows, facing forward, eyes meeting those of Joseph Seed for the first time in person. Her gaze jumps from him to those behind him, and freezes. She’s amazed that she doesn’t actually seize up and stop walking in shock.

     Because standing only a few feet off to the side is John, and suddenly she is not 29 but 22, and the memory hits her like a freight train.

  


-New Orleans, Louisiana, 2011-

     The beer she is nursing is not disappearing fast enough for her date, it seems, because he keeps looking at his clock like he’s got somewhere to be. It sets her on edge, and she sips it even slower, aware of whatever is going on. She stares at him, taking in the roundness of his face and the softness of his eyes, and decides right then that whatever he thinks is more important than her, is probably worth it. Whatever she was feeling for him when she agreed to the date is absent now. Placing her glass down on the bar, she turns to face him and puts her hand on his shoulder.

     “Listen. I think we both really aren’t feeling this right now. How about we part our separate ways, you get on to whatever’s got you anxious and I’ll cover the tab. Sound good?” It’s straightforward, and she speaks casually out of a need to alleviate them from the disinterest that they are both feeling at the moment. It might seem cruel, but it feels right. Before he can even get a word out, she’s turning back to face the bar and her drink, and taking another sip. Jonah watches her reflection in the mirror that backs the bar, and catches him falter and flounder, then stand up and leave the overcrowded bar that she had picked for this exact reason. If things went south, like they did, it wouldn’t look odd for her to be sitting by herself with a drink. Instead of a being a girl with a date gone wrong, she would just be someone enjoying a drink after a day at work. She was fine with that. Fine with sitting all dolled up when she would rather be at home with her cat and in a worn pair of jeans. Fine fine fine.

     “If that was nice, I’d hate to see what mean was.” A voice to her left says, light and teasing. Jonah winces at the words he says, but glances his way in the bar mirror. She didn’t expect him to be looking at her the same way, and the moment she meets those blue eyes she knows she’s a goner. Always been a sucker for blue eyes, and his go on for miles. Jonah turns to him.

     “What makes you think I was being nice?” She asks, giving him a better look over now that she’s facing him. He’s dressed like he actually just got off of work, dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up around the elbows showing off a small array of tattoos that she is just a bit envious of. Clean shaven, dark brown hair slicked back, and damn him if he doesn’t know he looks good. She knows he’s looking her over too, and a small part of her hopes he likes what he is seeing.

     “You said you would pay for the tab. If you were being mean, I have a feeling you’d have made him pay. Am I right?” He’s turned closer toward him, mirth lighting up his blue eyes and she feels just a bit giddy.

     “Are you always this good at jumping to conclusions?”

     “Call it a part of the job. I make a living out of getting to the end of things.”

     “Oh really, and what might that job be?”

     “A lawyer, in Atlanta. I’m John Duncan.” He’s smiling as he speaks, and Jonah can’t decide if she wants to keep staring at it or wipe it off his face with a kiss. The alcohol might be making her braver, but by god she hasn’t had sex with an attractive man in a while, and he is certainly attractive.

     “A lawyer, huh? What’s a big wig like you doing in this tourist trap that’s the French Quarter?”

     “How about I get your name first, and then I’ll answer your question.” He smiles.

     “I’m Jonah, Jonah Bouche. Officer from the 8th district.”

     “An officer! Y’know, our jobs are pretty close to one another.”

     “Close if you mean hardly similar at all, although I wouldn’t mind working closer with you.” The words spill from her lips, and she doesn’t have another moment to judge if they sound ridiculous or not. He seems to not think so, because he throws his head back and laughs, and it’s infectious. She joins in, laughing at her words and the silliness of it, but when their laughter dies away, he looks right at her and speaks.

     “Your place or mine?” His eyes are so clear, so focused on her that she shivers and doesn’t hesitate on giving a response.

     “Yours. I bet you’re at a hotel, and it’s far cleaner than my apartment.” The moment she finishes, he’s already placing money on the bar top and she stood out of her seat. They headed out together, his hand moving to the small of her back, guiding her out onto the busy street. The Quarter was packed, but being closer to him was all she wanted. It’s been a while since she’s been so giddy about sleeping with someone. She’s had sex, maybe not recently, but nothing as edgy as meeting a random stranger at the bar, speaking for a few minutes, and deciding to jump their bones.

     It’s maybe a fifteen minute walk to his hotel, and it takes all of her strength to stop herself from kissing him senseless in the street. Maybe he’s feeling the same thing, because the grip he has on her hip keeps getting just a bit tighter. They stay the perfect distance from one another till they get to his room, his freaking suite. She doesn’t say anything about the opulence of the room, of the clean white surfaces and modern finishes, but her eyes widen as she takes in the room, just a bit. But it is only a moment into the room before she’s on him, fingers digging into his hair and smashing her mouth into his. She takes him by surprise, she knows, but he catches on quick enough because his hands come up to wrap around her waist, lifting her up so their faces are on a closer level, so she isn’t craning up to reach him. He’s taller than her, more then she originally thought, and with his extra lift she’s able to wrap her legs around his waist with a small jump, relishing in the small grind she is able to get out against him. He moves his hands from her waist to her ass, pressing her even closer into his pelvis. It takes a few more grinds for her to find the right spot through her pants, but when she does, she moans into his mouth between kisses.

     “You like that?” He asks between pants, moving his mouth from hers down to her throat, leaving traces of kisses as he goes.

     “Yes,” Jonah hisses, craning her neck back to allow him a better space. He reaches one hands up to pull her hair back, stretching her neck just a bit more before he bites down on her pulse point, then licking it afterwards.

     “Let’s see what I can do to make you say that again.” Moving toward the bed, he sets her down on the edge and then kneels in front of her, hands moving to slide under the blouse she has on, his hands on her bare skin. Jonah helps, grabbing the edges of the shirt to pull it over her head, leaving her in the plain white bra she had chosen earlier in the day. It was old, not cute, she hadn’t been planning on having sex. John doesn’t seem to mind because he is quickly taking it off, retracing the path he had made down her neck to end at her exposed breasts, nipping at the flesh as he makes a path down to her belly. He glances up at her through hooded eyes as he unbuttons her black jeans, and she lifts her hips up so he can inch them off of her. He hooks her underwear off as well, and Jonah feels like she’s about to go to fucking heaven. It’s been forever since anyone has gone down on her, and here is this saint just jumping right in.

     Her fingers dig into his hair as he slides his tongue against her, going straight for her clit. She gasps, and flexes upward against his face.

     “Oh fuck yes.” Jonah whispers to herself as he licks up and down, his tongue dipping into her for a moment before going back to circle her clit, and sucking on it. It only takes a little bit of him going hard, and slipping two fingers into her while he sucks, and she’s coming with a small moan, relaxing back into the bed with a sigh.

     “You’re good at that.” She mumbles, trying to shake off the post climax afterglow so she can get back to what they’re doing.

     “Well thank you very much.” He’s smug, she can hear it in his voice. It makes her snicker, and she hooks a foot under her arms to push him upward.

     “C’m’here.” She pulls him up, kissing him and tasting herself on his mouth while she lays him down and throws one thigh over his lap. She slides against his cock a few times, enjoying the way he closes his eyes and tips his head back, allowing himself to moan. It’s a sound she could get used to enjoying. With a simple twist of her hips, she’s settling herself down onto him, tipping her head back with a small moan. The stretch of him in her burns, and she loves it.

     “You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful, perched up there like that,” He mumbles, and she shivers, choosing that moment grind down against him again. He’s only passive for a moment, something she’s realizing is against his personality, before he’s pushing himself up off the bed, and crossing his legs behind her ass so that they are both seated.

     “But I can’t do this,” he kisses her, their tongues meeting together while he thrusts up into her. Her lips part against his and she feels him grin, “or this.” He separates them, moving his hands to her breasts and latching on to one of her nipples while he play with the other, once again thrusting into her, harder. That’s how it goes, him whispering and thrusting, Jonah simply moaning between every move he makes. It goes quickly, before she’s coming again and bucking forward against him with a gasp, and he comes right after, his thrusts stuttering and ceasing with a groan that Jonah swallows with a kiss.

 

-Hope County, Montana, 2018-

     She knows, _knows,_ she should be putting the cuffs on Joseph, who is standing in front of her with hands outstretched. Knows that both Burke and Whitehorse are watching her, both expecting her to make some move, which is fucking stupid if you ask her. Too much responsibility to give to a rookie, but she isn’t the one making the calls. She wants to move, to do what is right, but her brain is stuck on the fact that her former boyfriend, a man she loved and thought she lost, is standing right in fucking front of her, a part of some cult that she’s supposed to be arresting. He seems to be just as shocked, standing behind Joseph and their apparent siblings with a look of confusion and surprise on his face too.

     He’d never mentioned siblings. Never mentioned anything. He had said his name was Duncan, not Seed. The three years they spent together are playing out in front of her like a video, and she can’t fucking make a move because she never thought she would see him again. Obviously, she takes too long, because Whitehorse is pushing Joseph Seeds hands down, and leading both her and Burke out of the chapel, Burke throwing a fit. But she can’t pay attention to them, or the threats that Burke is throwing their way for not following the law, because she is glancing over her shoulder to stare wide eyed into those blue eyes that are staring back, just as lost in them as she was the first day she looked into them.


	2. Can You Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonah makes a bad decision that may or may not work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stupid and didn't say that every chapter is inspired by a song. First chapter was This City and Sex by The 1975, this chapter is Can You Run by The Steeldrivers.
> 
> I've also decided I'm going to be using in game side missions and stuff like that in this plot. I still haven't exactly figured out what's going to be happening but the main idea is this: Jonah and the other deputies have been living at the station to keep them on duty 24/7. They answer and take the calls that they can, while not actively avoiding confrontation with the cult. They don't seek it out, but if they get a call for help, they'll answer.
> 
> This is totally not edited, so any flaws or mistakes you see, please point them out! Or if you're interested in reading the chapters before posting, hit me up!

     Her bed has never been so uncomfortable. Not that the beds they have in the offices are very comfortable to being with. They’re small, and make her crave the large queen she used to sleep in in her small cottage back when things hadn’t gone to full shit just yet. They still haven’t, but Whitehorse had deemed it unsafe enough that they better stick together regardless. They’d quickly but efficiently turned some of the offices into bedrooms, and soon enough they had all been sleeping there. Hudson and her share an office, what used to be Joey’s working space has now been converted into their shared bedroom. Jonah certainly won’t complain about being with one of the only other woman that work in the Sheriff's Station.

     She’s restless, she knows, and with every toss and turn that she completes in her bed, she wakes just a little bit more. Sleep seems to be inaccessible, and Jonah groans with frustration. Raking her hands down her face, scenes from the day replay in her head. John, standing there. She shouldn’t be obsessing like this, it’s been years since they’ve seen each other, years since they’d left one another in the dust. She was fine with that, they hadn’t been the best match, she was  _ fine _ . But even the idea of him being so close was making her itch with frustration and needing to figure out what was going on. Obviously he had been sucked into this cult… or he had been lying the entire time they had been together. The last option makes her angry, see red, want to punch a wall.

     Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she rolls over in her small bed, quietly, hoping that her restlessness hasn’t managed to wake her bunkmate. Stealing a quick glance, she sees Hudson still deep in sleep, little snores escaping from her parted lips every few moments. She takes a moment, hoping maybe watching someone so peaceful in sleep might help lull her away too. It doesn’t work, and gritting her teeth, Jonah pushes herself out of her bed. Staying in it is doing her no good. Slinging her legs over the edge of her mattress, she starts putting her feet in her unlaced boots, and begins to lace them up. A knock at the office door pulls her attention.

     “Jonah… we got a call, can you take it?” Nancy, sweet Nancy’s voice comes through the door. Jonah sighs, and stands up. Maybe answering a call will do her good. Picking her flannel off a chair and slinging it around her shoulders, she opens the door and steps out. The lights are already on in the main open offices, and she squints her eyes as they adjust to the brightness. Nancy is right there outside their door, already looking ready for the day although Jonah is sure it isn’t even 5 am yet. Her white hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her loose shirt somehow looks clean.

     “What’s up, Nancy?” She walks as she talks, Nancy following after her like a dog. It’s normally fine, but having just woken up, it annoys her.

     “Are you alright dear? I could get someone else to go, you look a bit… tired.” Nancy says, and Jonah is sure it’s true. She can’t remember the last time she’s had a warm shower, or been able to soak in a bathtub. Her brown hair is probably sticking in every direction, curls untamed. She doesn’t have time for caring about her appearance these days.

     “I’m alright Nancy. Who called in?”

     “Old Dutch. Says he hasn’t heard from Rae-Rae in a while and was hoping one of us could get over there to check it out. He’d go himself, but apparently the Peggies are on the island now.”

     “Where aren’t they,” Jonah mumbles as she pours herself a cup of old coffee from their kitchen that she has moved into, Nancy standing in the doorway resting her hip against the frame. Taking a quick chug from her mug, she wipes her mouth with her wrist and nods. “Yeah, I’ll go take a peek out and see what’s going on. I’m sure they just lost power or something, haven’t been able to get it back on.”

     “Alright dear. Don’t forget your firearm.” Her answer seems to please Nancy, because she smiles and nods.

     Jonah watches as Nancy turns from the door and leaves, probably back to her small quarters near the bathroom. Shaking her head at her odd old coworker, Jonah returns her mug to the counter after quickly finishing the cold coffee with a wince. It only takes her a minute to get to their small armory, and holstering her pistol on her waist, and attaching the small radio to her shoulder. Her phone is seated in her back pocket, and she pats it just to be sure she remembered it. She doesn’t go many places without it these days. Even if service is shitty, the radio can sometimes be even shitty to find reception for.

     Leaving the office is somewhat of a hassle, having to undo the multiple locks they’ve installed on the door to ensure that the offices are a secure location. She makes sure to lock each and every one of them once she gets outside into the cool, dark morning. The birds haven’t even started their normal morning routine yet, the air dominated by the constant cicadas and crickets. It’s a beautiful night symphony, and one that she normally wouldn’t mind enjoying on any other night in any other location. She makes her way to one of the departments only trucks, and unlocks it so she can hop inside. The car rattles as she turns the key in the ignition, but it catches and she sighs a breath of relief. Jonah doesn’t know what they would do if this truck died and they’d be left with only one vehicle.

     It takes her about maybe twenty minutes to reach the far, and she cuts the ignition about half a mile away, parking the truck back behind brush. If Peggies are around, she doesn’t want to alert them with the headlights. Walking the rest of the way is her safest bet. She locks the key in place around one of her belt loops, and starts off down the road, staying the best she can in the brush along the side. A few trucks pass as she walks, and Jonah ducks every time the headlights get close enough to illuminate her figure.

     About ten minutes pass before the farm comes into view, and she hops the fence into the pumpkin patches to make her way to the entrance where she can see a truck parked, and a dog going wild. Her mind has already reached the worse conclusion, and everything seems to be pointing to it. Being mindful of her step, Jonah unholsters her gun and takes the safety off, holding it out in front of her. She can hear individuals talking, and the closer she gets, the more she can recognize the whiteness of the truck, and the stupid cross painted on its side. Swallowing, she ducks behind the small shop and steadies her breathing. Leaning around the corner, it only takes her a few moments to put the picture together.

     She can see the blood staining the dirt of the driveway, with Boomer going buckwild in a cage, and two Peggies standing in front of the poor thing, almost mocking him. Scowling, she takes aim and does away with the two men quickly, pulling the trigger repeatedly for one before moving her aim to the other. They both drop, and Jonah releases her breath, rising from her crouch and emerging from behind the building. They both don’t move as she approaches, and she’s relieved. Taking a quick moment to look at the lock on the cage, Jonah deems it too difficult to try and pick.

     “Stand back, Boomer.” The dog, seemingly understand her words, stays to the back of the cage, tail lowered and eyes watching her closely. She aims and takes a few shots at the lock, stopping when she sees the chain fall limp. Quickly unwinding the chains, she holds the cage open, letting the dog out. Boomer runs, nose to the ground as he seems to find Rae-Rae and her husband, both laying with blood spilling in the dirt. She can hear his whines from all the way back at the cage, and Jonah swears.

     “C’mon boy, lets go inside.” Patting her thigh to call the dog’s attention, Jonah heads over to the front door and pushes it open, glancing around before heading inside. The tv is still on, and Jonah sits down in front of it on their couch, putting her head in her hands. She hates this. Hates having to find bodies of good people murdered for something stupid, having to kill people that have been brainwashed and fooled. Hates all of it. A lick on her hand makes her raise her head. Boomer, sweet boy he is, sits at her feet with his head cocked. Patting him on the head, Jonah gives the dog a soft smile. Taking her hands back, she uses her left to press the call button on her radio.

     “Nancy? It’s Jonah, I’m at Rae-Rae’s. There isn’t anyone here anymore. Can you call Dutch and let him know that? He doesn’t need to worry anymore. I’ve got the dog though, if he wants him. Over.”

     “Oh no, poor Rae-Rae. If I remember correctly, she was Dutch’s niece. Oh he’ll be heartbroken. I’ll let him know. You get back to us safely honey. Over.” Letting her hand fall back down the her lap to absently pat Boomer’s head, who has decided her thigh is a perfect perch for it. They sit in almost silence, the tv the only background noise to the sadness that seems to be calling Jonah deeper and deeper. Maybe even deeper, till she hears a familiar voice on the television. Eyes wide, she pulls her head back to stare at the screen, locking eyes with John whatever his real last name is. He’s talking about something stupid, some tactique to get people to join him and his siblings, and it makes her blood fucking boil. People are dead because of what him and his ‘family’ have done. It’s a reaction, nothing more, as she pulls her gun out and quickly fires into the glass. Boomer barks and she stands seething as the screen goes black.

     Shoulders heaving as she breathes, Jonah drops back to the couch and puts her gun’s safety back on, putting it away. She sits for a few moments, trying to calm herself down. It doesn’t work, and instead of calming, she gets a terrible idea. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she opens her contacts and scrolls, landing on his name and staring at the two hearts that she’s never been able to take away from his name. She had told him, when they broke up, that he could always call her for help, or if he needed someone to talk to. She just wasn’t going to stand around and watch him kill himself with drugs and whatever else he was doing. That when he wanted to get clean, she could be there to help him, as a friend. He never did call.

     It’s a long shot. Her gaze drifts toward the little spot in the corner of her phone and, like it had been for some time, there’s no service. Her plan will have to be more public then, and a lesser chance of working. But her anger has worked miracles before. Setting her radio to the station that the Peggie’s have been know to use, she makes her message, and hopes it gets passed to the right man. 

     “I’m at Rae-Rae’s pumpkin farm. Your men are dead. I’m alone. I want to talk.”


	3. The Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonah goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by The Gallery by The Lil Smokies. Also, I finally found Jonah’s fc and if you’re interested, you can find it at my tumblr, dashboardjuliet, with the tag Jonah Bouche fc

     She waits and wonders if what she did was the right thing to do. Stupid, for sure. Just because it was stupid, doesn’t mean it wasn’t right or at least that is what she tells herself. It’s her way of assuring herself that everything will be fine, that what she did wasn’t dangerous and could potentially get her killed. She bites at her thumb as she moves around, other hand resting on her hip. Rae-Rae’s house is small, and after thirty minutes of waiting with no response, Jonah has explored every inch of the building, learning more about the dead woman and her family. She moves to the garage, finding the note that the woman had left for her boy and she spends a good ten minutes just staring at the letter and the leftover ammo and gun still sitting on the workbench.

     Jonah has never had a soft spot for children, but she’s never been one to let someone that’s hurting go unhelped. The idea of Ryan wandering around the woods, lost and without supplies, or worse. It chills her to the point that she has to sit down on the ground with her head in between her legs to try and steady herself, with Boomer sitting patiently at her side for her to calm down. Panic attacks are new to her, since all this cult business started, and she can feel the hazy edges of worry gnawing at her vision, and tears growing at the corner of her eyes. She tries desperately to not linger on the thought of the little boy’s body lying somewhere. Closing her eyes, she reaches over and digs her fingers into Boomers fur to anchor her, and counts her breaths to those of the dog’s, steadying herself.

     An hour passes, filled mostly with her sitting on the ground with the dog curled in her lap, before she decides that her plan has failed. He isn’t coming, they won’t be talking. With a huff, Jonah stands and brushes the lingering dirt off the back of her pants and starts her short trek back to the truck. Boomer follows behind, occasionally wandering with his nose to the ground, but never far enough that he ever goes out of her field of vision. It’s a small comfort, to know that she isn’t alone walking in the slow rising dawn. Over the cusp of the hills in the distance, she can see the glow of sun just starting to peak. It’s barely there, but it’s enough.

     Taking the car fob from her belt, she opens the passenger door for the dog, who hops into the seat with ease. Slamming the door behind him, she walks around the car and gets herself situated in the driver's seat, tapping one hand’s fingers on the steering wheel while she turns the key in the ignition. It starts, and she pulls the car out from behind the brush and back onto the road, heading to the station.

     The road is a bit busier, and she passes a few more trucks with Peggie crosses then she would like to, but she drives and keeps her pace. She glances up into her rearview mirror and swallows. A truck is behind her, lights flashing. There isn’t a cross on the side, but she still gets nervous. She doesn’t pull over, keeps her foot on the gas pedal. The station is in sight, she just needs to get there. She keeps her vision locked on the building that has become her safe haven until her radio crackles to life.

     “Pull over. You got my attention, so let’s talk.” Her blood freezes as she realizes she never changed the channel back to the right frequency, and left it on the one she had made her original call with. He still sounds the same, maybe a bit more tightly wound, but it’s still him.

     Her hands grip the steering wheel as she pulls off onto the side of the road, and shuts the car off. It takes her a moment to steady her breathing before she gets out of the car, Boomer coming with her. He is her only friend right now, and by God if she doesn’t need someone or something by her side right then. She doesn’t get nervous easily, not usually, but John seems to have that way with people. Maybe it’s just her. Rounding the front of the car, away from the road and blocking his view of her, she takes a moment to click the safety on her gun off. Something in him has obviously changed, and she isn’t about the make a mistake just because of their past. Jonah takes her place next to the passenger door with Boomer at her side, hackles raised and a low growl coming from his throat. ‘He must feel just as nervous as I do,’ she thinks, and gives him a quick pet on the head. He settles, but the growling continues. It’s the only noise to fill the air as the other truck’s engine cuts off, and the door swings open. Even the birds stay quiet. Jonah swallows.

     This close to him, she notices a few changes that she hadn’t seen before. She’d been distracted, and seeing a ghost from her past her shaken her. Up close, she can see the man has changed. Small wrinkles around his eyes, hardly noticeable, but she sees them. Tattoos decorate his fingers now too, and he has an earring. It’s certainly a look, completely different from the lawyer she once knew, but underneath that she can still see the John she once knew. In the silence as they take one another in, she absently wonders what he thinks of the changes she’s gone through. She’s not her young self anymore, barely into adulthood. Almost thirty, and she’s left the terrible blonde dye job in the past, not having the time or care to keep up the maintenance. She’s a bit bigger, she knows that too, and wonders if he notices the way her curves have settled out from the sharpness that they used to hold, but she won’t ask him that.

     “You didn’t have to kill my men.” He says, and she takes a moment, stunned by him.

     “That’s what you choose to say? No, ‘Hey Jonah, how you been? By the way, I joined a fucking cult!’” Her anger boils back out, she thought it had cooled off. She thought she could handle this, handle a confrontation with him.

     “You don’t understand. You jump right to conclusions like you always fucking do instead of listening.” His fists tighten at his sides, she can see them clench. It’s an odd feeling to think that those hands once held her.

     “Are you serious? Are you seriously suggesting I should listen to you, or better yet, those men you sent to kill Rae-Rae and her husband, and for all I know, her boy too?” She yells, her anger getting the better of her, and she can see the way he holds himself in.

     “I needed the damn dog,” He yells back, bursting and point at Boomer at her feet. “And if she’d just handed him over, she’d still be alive! You all seem to think we kill just because we want, and don’t stop for a second to think we do it because we must!”

     “Do you hear yourself? You sound insane! How can you think that?”

     “Because I know the truth!”

     “God, John,” Jonah steps back, bringing her hands up to comb her fingers through her hair to try and calm herself down. “What can I do, what can we offer you to leave these people alone? What can I do to get you all to leave this county and go find some unpopulated corner of the world, and settle there?”

     “Offer me everything.” He says it so simply that she stops, and honestly thinks to herself for a moment.

     “What the fuck does that even mean?”

     “You don’t understand yet, but you will.” He steps toward her and it only takes her a second her unholster her gun and aim it at his chest.

     “Don’t come one step closer to me, John.” Boomer is growling at her feet as she speaks, lips pulled back against his teeth. She’s so caught up in keeping her eyes on his face that she doesn’t see the small movement with his hand, doesn’t notice anything is wrong till she feels a thump on her side. One hand leaves her gun to touch her side, and as she pulls her hand back, she can see her fingers stained with blood. Everything starts to go hazy, and she drops her gun, slamming her hand onto the truck to steady herself.

     “What did you do,” She whispers, right hand pressing down onto her side to try and stop the bleeding, but she knows she’s not putting enough pressure on it. Her limbs feel loose, and she can’t control them. “John, what did you do?”

     He’s coming closer to her, and she can’t do anything to stop him. Boomer is going crazy at her side, and then he stops, and she can’t bring herself to think about what happened to him because all she can focus on is keeping herself steady until she can’t. Jonah tips forward, hand sliding off the truck, and everything goes black.


	4. Sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fffflashback!!!

Atlanta, 2011

His place is much, much nicer than hers. It isn’t exactly surprising, considering their differences in pay, but she still wasn’t expecting the simplistic beauty of it. Everything is white, everything. Colors come from the stacks of books that occupy bookshelves that frame a fireplace that she knows is fake. It doesn’t feel like a lived in place, doesn’t have many of the familiar touches that her apartment has, that make it feel occupied. It feels artificial in a way that she can’t explain. Maybe like a show apartment, always ready to be shown off to a new person to attract them into buying. That must be how he likes it.

Their relationship is so new that she’s still learning these things about him. She watches him, unabashed in her attention to him. They’re both in his ridiculously sized tub, large enough for the two of them. She has her legs tucked to her chest, but she knows she could stretch out and there would still be an ample amount of space for the both of them. Wisps of her hair tickle the sweat that is dripping down the back of her neck. He likes his water hotter then she does, and she hadn’t spoken up to disagree with the temperature. She can’t really complain. If that’s the worst thing going for her, she’s doing pretty good.

“You’re thinking too hard.” John says, drawing her from her rapt attention to his tattoos on his arms.

“Am not,” A smile weasels her way onto her lips, the lie obvious. She had been thinking too hard, but she can’t resist the way his brow furrows and his lip twitches. He wants to contradict her, she can tell, but he doesn’t. It’s just amazing that he knows.

“Liar.”

“Maybe.” She lets her legs go after the words leave her lips, sliding her feet down onto his thighs. She can feel him shudder for a moment when her skin comes into contact with him.

“What are you thinking.” He asks, but it doesn’t come out like a question. He removes his hands from the sides of the tub to place them on her ankles, rubbing circles into her skin. It’s her turn to shiver now, caught up in the feeling of him. It’s silly, she knows, how reactive she is to him. He’s hot, sure, but if he could touch her forever she would let him. He’s the first person she’s ever felt that for. Leaning her head back on the edge of the tub, she stares at the ceiling instead of him.

“Your tattoos. For a lawyer, you have a ton of them.”

“Lawyers can’t have tattoos?” There’s a lightness in his voice that lets her know right away that he’s smirking at her.

“Quiet,” she laughs, pushing his side with her foot. “What do they mean?”

“I don’t think they really have a meaning.” He says, and she looks up at him. He’s staring at her in the same way that she had been closely looking at his arms, and she blushes, her tan skin growing a shade darker.

“So no meaning at all?” She reaches out, taking his arm into her hand and traces her her fingers over the peacock feather on his forearm up to the lock and key on his upper shoulder. His skin pebbles under her skimming.

“Is there any meaning to yours,” She hadn’t thought he had seen it, buried under her hair at the edge of her hairline on her neck. The eye is constantly open, simple and always watching. She had gotten it when she turned 18, and most of the time forgot that it even existed. “Outside of being a silly choice you made years ago, probably the first thing you had seen at the place you went and got it done. An act of rebellion, nothing more.”

“How do you do that? Just guess and get it right?”

“I just know people,” He shrugs, his hands ceasing their motion on her skin to come out of the water. The surface of the water breaks, ripples fanning out as he leans forward toward her. His hand comes up to cup the back over her neck, right over her eye, and his thumb brushes back and forth against the corner of her jaw. “Lean back.” He whispers, his voice becoming so soft that she relaxes immediately.

She does as he asked, letting her neck go limp in his grasp with only his hand to support it. Her head leans back, and Jonah closes her eyes as his lips, slightly chapped, press against the underside of her jaw. It’s tender, far more tender then he has ever been before. Normally, he is always rough, not that she minds, but this is something altogether different for him. It’s beautiful. She breathes out, her voice light as she sighs.

“There doesn’t always need to be a meaning to the things we do, Jonah,” He whispers against her skin, his lips moving against her flesh to make her shiver. The water moves again as he comes closer, and she keeps her eyes closed despite how much she wants to open them and look him in the eye. His lips leave her neck, his chest presses against hers, and then his lips are on hers. It’s gentle, and barely a kiss. His lips ghost over hers and she wants,  _ wants, _ to arch up and follow him. “Sometimes we do things just because we want to.”

A moment passes, and then he’s back on her, and her moan echoes off the bathroom tiles as the forceful John she normally enjoys comes back out, his lips sliding against hers hard. Her nose bumps against his as she surges upward, pressing herself right back to be as close as she can. Jonah brings her arms up from out of the water and wraps them around his neck, pulling him to her. He leans back and he uses his hands to cup her ass, and brings her back with him, tongue twisting with hers as he does so. Jonah breaks away from him, panting, and leans her forehead against his, eyes half closed as she stares into his. She can feel him, hard, on the inside of her thigh.

“Here, or the bed?”

“Here.”


	5. Phase Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonah discovers the John she knew and the John now are two different people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Phase Me Out by Vérité!

     She floats in and out of consciousness. The first time is slow, and she reverts back to a child, crying out for her mother. Her side aches, aches in a way that she has never felt pain before. Gasping out a sigh, Jonah cries out.

     “Mom? Mom!”

     “She's not here… Jonah.” Her mom doesn’t answer her, but John does and she relaxes immediately. If John is with her, that means she’s being taken care of, but she needs to make sure her mom knows she is okay. It’s her only worry. She moves with a wince, reaching out to grab at him. She doesn’t have to reach long because his hand is there in a moment, and she takes it with a light squeeze.

     “Babe, let my mom know… I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” Her eyes are closing as she speaks, and she can feel herself drifting off again, the edges of her vision fading to black. He flinches in her grasp but he doesn’t pull away.

     “I will…” His response is the last thing she hears before she is gone.

 

-

 

-

 

-

     She wakes slowly this time, calm and aware of herself. It takes a few good minutes of blinking her eyes and slowly rubbing at them for her vision to clear, but once she does, she is able to take in her surroundings. Her limbs feel heavy, and she’s sure she has been out for longer than a week, which she knows isn’t normal for a nonfatal gunshot. They must have been giving her something to keep her out. It makes her skin crawl, so she doesn’t dwell on it.

     She’s in a bunker, cellar, something dark and dingy that makes her think of cheesy action movie interrogation scenes. A chain jangles as she tries to roll over and get out of the cot she was laying in, and she stops, staring at her wrist. They’ve handcuffed her to the bed, and she yanks on it again. Not budging. Turning her body as much as she can, without putting her arm in an awkward position, is almost impossible. With a huff, Jonah settles for staring up at the ceiling.

     A door slams, somewhere close enough that she can hear the echo from the noise, and she turns her head toward the noise. Quickly rolling onto her chained side, she closes her eyes and freezes, slowing her breathing as much as she can to mimic sleep. The door to whatever room she is in opens, and she counts two pairs of footsteps that walk in after it.

     “Has she woken at all?” Says one voice, and it takes her a moment to place it. She’s only heard it a few times on video recordings, and even less so in person, but the cadence is unmistakable. Joseph Seed is talking about her. Her spine crawls but she stays still, clenching her eyes shut.  _ Stay calm, _ she thinks to herself,  _ just stay calm and they won’t pay attention to you. _

     “Not really, she’s just muttered here and there. Asked me to call her mom.”

     “Did you?”

     “Do you fucking think I did?”

     “John…”

     “Joseph, don’t. I know you think I’m clouded by her being here but I’m not. Eden’s Gate is my only care now.”

     “We could use her John. God brought us here for a reason, and there’s a reason He brought her here too.”

     “I don’t want to fucking use her. I don’t want a damn part of her here.”

     There’s a pause in their conversation, and Jonah uses it to move, slightly. Her side aches, and she winces as she adjusts herself. They both stay quiet, and she knows they must be looking at her. The next time one of them speaks, Joseph’s voice is farther away but still holds the same power.

     “Don’t discount her just because of the past you two shared. I know she left, and I can only imagine how much that hurt you, but she can still be used by Him just as we all can.”

     John doesn’t respond, but she can only imagine how his hands must be clenched and how he holds himself in. He must respect Joseph, Jonah realizes. There are footsteps, and then a door is opening and closing leaving silence in its wake.

     Something scratches against the floor, a chair probably, that stops at the edge of her bed. Her eyes feel heavy the longer she keeps them closed, and she knows that soon enough she will be asleep again. There is no fighting the tiredness that aches from her bones. John says nothing as he sits by her side, and she falls asleep with the knowledge that although he doesn’t want anything from her, he is still by her side.

 

-

 

-

 

-

     “It’s time to wake up Jo-nah.” Her name is elongated, drawn out, downright creepy. She wants to keep her eyes closed because when she sleeps the realization of her situation doesn’t exist.Though the longer she stays asleep, the more time John spends by her bedside pacing, yelling at whoever comes into her little cell, yelling at her, just yelling. It’s angier than she’s ever heard him before, and she debates the pros and cons of staying asleep.

     It can’t last forever though, and his mocking sing song voice is enough to push her over the edge. She can only pretend for so long, and it’s time to be done with it. Opening her eyes, Jonah lifts herself off the bed, sitting up. Her abdomen aches but the pain isn’t as sharp and insistent anymore, more a dull throb that she is only semi-consciously aware of. Her hand is still chained, and it makes for facing him awkward, so she opts for sitting straight up in the bed, but turning her head to look at him. He is sitting there, leaning the chair back on two legs with his legs crossed, hands behind his head.

     “Sleeping beauty awakes, finally.” He says, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs. She blinks at him and frowns.

     “How did you know I was awake?”

     “Do you think I don’t know you, or did you forget the five years we were together? You think you’re a great actress but you’re not that good.” He shrugs, just as cocky as he used to be toward the end of their relationship. Like he knew the answer to everything, even when he was wrong.

     “I would have thought you’d forget considering the amount of drugs you were pumping into yourself at the end there. Do you remember the end? Or is all just a haze for you?” She can’t resist the jab at him, or the way it makes him bolt upright out of his chair and stalk away from her to punch the wall. It’s vindictive and cruel but she can’t help herself. If she can knock him down a few pegs, she is more than willing to. What she doesn’t expect is the way that he swings back around toward her, moving quick enough that she can’t prepare for him to be on her, his hand closing around her throat. She chokes, kicks with her legs to get away from his grasp but he holds strong. Stopping her struggle when she realizes she’s making no progress at getting away, she stares at him wide eyed.

     “Don’t think for a fucking minute that I’m keeping you here because I care,” He says, grip tightening around her. She can barely breathe. “You’re only alive because Joseph and Jacob think they can use you to get rid of the thorn in our side the police have become. Once you’ve been used, you’re fucking gone. I could care less what happens to you then.”

     Then he lets her go, stepping away from her and flexing his hand as he leaves her coughing.

     Jonah stares at the doorway, holding her throat and the bruises that she knows will be forming there, and cries.


	6. Too Much to Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonah and Joseph have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brought to you by Too Much to Dream by Allie X, and the fact that Joseph's high empathy has got me fucking messed up ya'll. Legit had a conversation today about the doctrine and theology we heard from him in the game with a friend and we both totally agreed it was sound and we'd probably be all over that cult. Fun fact about the author, she was in a two year bible college that some people def called a cult! And now that I'm out, I can def see their stance on it lol.

     “Tell me about yourself Deputy.” Joseph Seed says, sitting in front of her in the empty chair. She’s been in this stupid cell for who knows how long. The handcuffs had been taken off around day 5 or 6, she wasn’t exactly sure. She had resorted to pacing then, putting her body through the motions of keeping it in shape. Her side ached whenever she took a deep enough breath, so she kept her activity to a minimum with gentle curl ups and push ups, and pacing. Now though, she sits on the bed facing the second eldest Seed, unsure of how long she’s been there. He doesn’t look like he’s changed much, but underneath that scraggly beard he has it’s hard to tell.

     “Why do you keep calling me ‘Deputy’? I’m sure John’s told you all about me by now.” Jonah replies, shrugging her shoulders as she stretches her legs out on the bed. The fight that she normally holds close to her is gone, and all she can do is nervously stretch, moving her body and rolling her joints. Her greasy hair falls into her face as she leans over her flat leg to grab her toes, relishing in the small crack she hears come from her back. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Joseph, who makes no reaction to her stretching. Unfolding, she crosses her legs and faces him, hands resting in her lap.

     “We haven’t been properly introduced. It would be rude of me to assume you like to be addressed by your first name.” He seems so nonchalant that it makes her snort. Of course the leader of a fucking cult is polite.

     “I’m Junior Deputy Jonah Bouche. You can call me Jonah, and is there anything I should call you?”

     “I go by many names. Some people call me The Fath- “

     “I’m not calling you that.” She interrupts quickly, shooting down the suggestion before it’s even properly spoken. It’s not an option for her.

     “Joseph, then, is fine.”

     “Joseph.” She tests the name in her mouth, but the fact that it is even connected to the man sitting in front of her makes her spine crawl. If she shows her displeasure at the circumstance she’s found herself in, being a captive and having to speak with him, he doesn’t comment on it. If anything, he seems pleased hearing her speak, because he nods his head toward her and gives a small smile. Jonah tries not to react.

     “So, Jonah, tell me about yourself.”

     “Like I said before, I’m sure John has told you plenty enough about me.”

     “Hearing it from John is one thing, but he is clouded by his emotions and pride. His anger fuels everything he says, especially when it comes to you. I can’t get a good picture of the woman that holds his heart.” She chokes at his words, and makes a time out sign with her hands.

     “Hold the fucking phone. Holds his heart? Do you see these bruises on my neck?” She stretches her neck out, showing off the faded purple and yellow imprints that she knows still stain her skin. It still hurts to touch. “I held his heart years ago, maybe. Whatever the hell I had with that liar is dead and gone.” It’s a lie, one hundred percent, but Joseph doesn’t need to know that, and honestly neither does she. She shakes it from her head, banishing the thought that she still might care for him, even the smallest amount.

     “I admit that John is too... quick with his reactions. He has yet to learn to think through things fully before choosing a course that he deems correct. He is still learning.”

     “You talk about him like he’s a kid. He’s an adult.”

     “Did John ever tell you about our childhood?”

     “I didn’t even know he had siblings.” Joseph leans back at that, bringing his hands to fold them in his lap. There’s a pause of silence between them before he sighs.

     “My brother is not the best at sharing.”

     “You’re fucking telling me.” This is perhaps the first time she can think of that she agrees with Joseph Seed. It’s a little surprising, but Jonah can’t deny that he isn’t right.

     “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to share that story without John’s permission. Perhaps I will sway him into having a conversation with you.” The thought of seeing John again makes her flinch, the idea of his hands around her throat brought to the forefront of her mind. Her discomfort must be evident on her face, because Joseph raises his hands. “Or I will receive his blessing to share. It isn’t my story to share with you.”

     “That’s very kind, but why? What makes you think that I give a damn about John, outside of taking this dumb cult down?”

     “Because once, or still, you did care about him, and I know the pain my brother feels from whatever you two had still lingers. It poisons him every moment that you are here.”

     “Then let me go.”

     “I can’t do that. There are bigger plans for you here.”

     “Then why are you wasting your time here with me?” Jonah asks, motioning to the cell that they are both seated it, the lights dim. There’s no point for him to be making conversation with her if she’s just a bartering card. There’s nothing for him to profit from with their speaking, and Jonah knows that there must be a larger motive underneath all this aside from her being a chip on the board of getting the deputies to stand down in Hope County. She isn’t that big of a player, but the way Joseph keeps talking makes her feel downright scared for what the future might hold for her.

     “If you don’t mind my asking, how did John and you part?” He seems to ignore her last question, and she grits her teeth as she fully processes his question. She hasn’t thought about their breakup in a few years, and with one simple question it all comes back.

     “Why?” Her voice is softer than she wants it to be, but she can’t help but feel defeat when she thinks of how she left him.

     “John holds onto it, like he does with many things, to fuel his anger. I am trying to understand.” Jonah leans back as he speaks, resting her back on the wall behind her. It’s cool, and she centers herself on the cold budding on her back.

     “It’s a long story.”

     “I have nothing but time. He has made sure of that.” She knows that he’s talking about God, and it makes no sense to her but she doesn’t point that out. Swallowing, she recalls the end.

     “It wasn’t a sudden thing, y’know? It happened over a course of months, maybe the last whole year we were together if I’m being honest.”

     “What?”

     “The drugs, the sex, with me and not with me. It was obvious he had problems, and I wanted to help him.”

     “So you left?”

     “Is that what he told you?” She’s angry all of a sudden, the very idea of John thinking and telling others that she simply left him making her blood boil.

     “As I’ve said before, his emotions cloud everything. I am simply trying to piece together two stories so I can have a complete picture.”

     “Then he obviously hasn’t talked about how hard it was for me to fucking watch him destroy himself.” She can picture the night she’s speaking of perfectly, and recounts it out loud. Coming home from work, thinking that while he was in town they could go out for dinner, spend a nice night on the town. She’d come home in uniform, expecting to take a shower with him and get ready together. She hadn’t expected to find him lounging in her bed, vein still tied off and needle laying on the ground. He hadn’t been expecting her that soon.

     “I was tired of watching him destroy himself. I knew he was doing something when he was back in Atlanta, and I had tried to bring up getting help but I never had any proof, and he always shot me down. Then, I had proof, and he didn’t want any of my help. So I let him sleep, and wear off his fucking high, and then I told him to go home. That if he wanted to fucking kill himself he could. But I told him he could always call, I’d always be there to help him. I just couldn’t fucking watch it from up close anymore.” Her voice cracks as she speaks, and it’s then that she realizes she’s crying. She brings a hand up to scrub at her eyes, cursing herself for being stupid enough to show so much emotion. A supposed prisoner isn’t supposed to be venting to one of the men holding her captive. Sniffing, she doesn’t realize Joseph has moved until hands are cupping her face. She flinches and backs up, but he shushes her the same way a parent would a child. Jonah freezes, and doesn’t move as he wipes the traces of tears that she missed from her cheeks.

     “He hurt you.” His voice is so soft, full of shared sorrow that she doesn’t understand. He has no need to feel sorry for her, no need to sympathize with her.

     “I was gonna marry him if he asked me to.” She admits, the first time she’s ever said it to anyone. That little truth has never left her lips, not even to her mother.

     “I am so sorry for the pain that my brother has caused you. Let God be your healing. Let this new path that is open to you, with us, be a saving grace. Heal, Jonah, and embrace what has been placed in front of you.” He moves away, and she wipes at her cheeks. He’s speaking crazy, but Jonah can’t bring herself to say anything to disagree with him. Her fight is empty, and all she wants to do is sleep.

     “Sure, whatever.” She shrugs, meaning nothing from her words. He just needs to leave so she can curl toward the wall and sulk, and it seems that her words do the trick. He nods, places a hand on her head for a blessing that she doesn’t understand, and leaves her little cell that has become her home. He says nothing as he leaves, door shutting behind him and locking. Jonah watches the door, waiting for something else to happen, but when nothing does she lays down on her bed and rolls onto her side to stare at the wall.

     She doesn’t understand what just happened between the two of them, the softness that opened up in her. Doesn’t like it. She’s here as a prisoner, not some charity case that one tries to help. She’s a bargaining piece, but in that moment she feels like so much more. She feels like more, and less, at the same time. Underneath the sinking feeling that she’s lost some of her ground against the Seeds, is a hurt that she hasn’t felt in a long time.

     Her thoughts turn to John as she drifts off into sleep, thoughts of what could have been if he had accept her help, had they worked things out. Maybe her help wouldn’t have mattered in the end. She might have been a part of the cult if they’d followed on that path. John had always known how to change her mind to something. She can almost see it, see them standing at that ranch he calls home, happy. A ring on her finger. Maybe pregnant, belly swollen with a kid on the way. She can see the way John would say something funny, making her snort with her nose crinkling up, and how his hand would move from holding hers to holding her belly. It’s a vision that’s so tempting if only she didn’t know the truth. Jonah falls asleep that way, swayed to sleep by a vision of a path that might have beens hers.


	7. Alibi / Up in The Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Thirty Seconds to Mars songs Alibi and Up in The Air. Also, They. Weren't. Supposed. To. Have. Sex. In. This. Chapter.

She locks the door, and strips. Her uniform drops one by one to the floor, almost ripping the buttons on her shirt as she tugs it off her body. In the bathroom, she can’t hear his quiet snores coming from her bed. The only noise is her echoing dry sobs. Her movements are mechanic, putting all her attention on trying to keep her breathing steady but it isn’t working. She turns the shower on, steps onto the tile and shuts the glass behind her, and sits down on the ground. Standing is too much work. She feels weak and all she wants is to be in bed and sobbing but she can’t because he’s there, sleeping off his high and the world is crashing down around her. Her hand moves to rest on her chest as it heaves, the cold water slowly heating up. Soon enough it’s scalding, leaving her skin pink but she can’t fucking care.

Because it’s over. Everything is coming down around her. The perfect life that she thought she had is crashing, and has been for a while. She’s ignored it, tried so desperately to ignore the fact that he had his problems that he wouldn’t share with her. How could she help if he didn’t open up? Didn’t let her into those places where she could try and help light the way for him? Her hands rake through her hair as she leans forward, resting her head on the tile ground, back curved in the fetal position. She’s having a panic attack, she knows by the way her breathing is erratic and her heart unsteady, and she can’t stop it. He was supposed to be her future. She was going to move to Atlanta for him, for them.

It’s at that thought that she fully loses it, tears finally flowing freely from her eyes to mix with the water streaming down her face. It’s cathartic, in some way, but it does nothing to calm her. A hiccup works its way out of her mouth as she pushes her cheek onto the warming tile. She hasn’t felt this broken in so long, and she can’t do one damn thing about it in the moment. She does the only thing she can, and mourns.

.

.

.

She blinks the sleep away, and for a full second, Jonah thinks she’s back in her apartments bathroom, having fallen asleep in the shower with a locked door between her and John. Life comes back to her quickly though when her vision processes the concrete wall that she is facing, and the tapping of a foot coming from behind her.  _ Oh right _ , she thinks,  _ I’m his prisoner.  _ She’s getting tired of waking up to people watching her while she sleeps. Sleep is still heavy in her eyes, and she doesn’t want to have to deal with him. Rolling over to further herself from him, she shoves her face into the limp pillow they’ve provided for her, effectively cutting off a cool air supply, but at the same time cutting off her connection to him. He huffs, she can hear him.

“Stop being immature, Jonah.” He says, disdain obvious in his voice. She doesn’t think of herself as being immature, simply avoiding a situation she isn’t ready to have yet.

“Go away John.” Her voice is muffled through the pillow, but she knows he can hear her. She isn’t to the point of being awake when she can deal with him and whatever nonsense he chooses to spew to her that day. A small part of her thinks back to a time where she would be more than happy to listen to him speak, even if it was nonsense. Then the memory that she had just dreamed is back in her head, and she throws the idea of listening to him out. The sadness is gone too, having shed enough tears over him in that night alone, and countless nights after. All that she’s left with is anger. Patience isn’t in her vocabulary when it comes to him anymore, and especially not after the sleep she’s had.

“Joseph said you talked with him, that we needed to talk.” His voice is tight, and she recognizes the tone, heard it before when she would come home with stories of guys that would get a bit too flirty on traffic stops and the like. He’s jealous, and has no right to be. It feeds into her anger, and makes her reckless. Rolling over and thrusting herself off the mattress to stand in front of him, she snarls with a curled lip.

“Joseph’s a fucking liar. I didn’t want to talk to you.” She wants to provoke him,  _ wants _ to fight him. Jonah gets the reaction that she wants as he pushes up out of the chair he had been reclining in, and moves toward her, stopping a far enough distance away from her that she feels safe.

“You obviously had a reason for telling your lies to my brother, so don’t pretend like you’re high and mi-”

“I didn’t tell you brother lies I told him my truth.”

“So you told him how you left me, is that it? So he can finally understand how evil you are?”

“No, I fucking told him how you left me. Don’t for one moment act like I wanted to leave you.”

“But you did it anyway, didn’t you?” He stalking toward her now, and she’s on edge.

“Don’t take another step toward me or I’m gonna hit you.” She hisses, but he doesn’t listen.

“You shared your lies because that is what you do, isn’t--” Her punch interrupts him, but the sound of his voice is driving her insane. Her fist connects right underneath his jaw, and throws him off kilter, forcing him to stumble backwards and clutch at his face. She shakes her fist out, shoulders heaving as she breathes. Hitting him… felt good. His face turns up to face her, hand clutching the spot she made contact with. Adrenaline is racing through her veins as his vision narrows toward her.

“You fucking hit me…” He growls, and she has a moment of grim satisfaction. It does little to prepare her for what’s next, but her body is poised for a fight. He heaves himself up and throws himself at her, aiming to take her down. She meets him full force, bending down to throw her shoulder into his gut and wrap her arms around his waist, driving him down to the ground. He isn’t ready for her, but she’s been ready for this, to feel him drop to the ground under her, revels in it. She plants herself on his waist, squeezing him with her thighs to keep him locked down as she punches him again, connecting this time with his nose. There’s a slight crack underneath her fist but she can’t fucking care because all she is, is angry, seeing red.

“That’s it, Jonah. Let me see your sin,” He laughs, blood trickling from his broken nose and she pulls her fist back to take another swing at him. “Show me your rage, your wrath. Let it all out in the open.” She’s heaving, and he is too, and she needs him to shut up because she can’t think while he’s spewing his insanity, can’t process her actions. Her hands go for his throat, tight enough to make him quiet, a mirror position of how they were less than a week ago. His neck elongates underneath her, and she can feel his pulse just underneath his skin. She tightens her grip. Leaning back on top of him, her hips move just enough that they slide down to meet his, and she freezes.

She can feel him, through his pants and hers, just hard enough to make a difference. Her grip on his waist and throat don’t loosen, but she takes a mental step back to take him in. He’s flushed, and it’s the first time in their entire encounter that she notices the stain on his cheeks. It’s so much harder to notice under his beard, but now that she’s caught a glimpse she can’t unsee it. He seems to catch her momentary distraction, and takes advantage of it. His grin is cruel as he thrusts up against her, his arms that she’s completely forgotten about coming up to wrap around her waist in a killing grip to force her down closer to him. Her face is inches from him and his cruel smirk and she can’t fucking process a damn thing.

“Cat got your tongue, dear Jonah?”  _ Yes, it does _ , she thinks, but she can’t let him know, can’t let him get the better of her. So she does the only thing she thinks can freeze him back. She closes the gap, takes her hands away from his throat to grab at his and yank them away and hold them above his head, and force her lips onto his. She’s got him pinned, arms held, and he can’t do much as she moves her chapped lips against his, hard. It’s dry, and her teeth click against his as she forces his mouth open to wrap her tongue around his. She’s got him stunned, unmoving as she moves and grinds against him, and she feels triumphant. She can win this, will win this. Then he comes alive, and it’s a fight once again between them. He thrusts against her again and she forces his hips down with hers, and his lips are finally moving against hers. His arms strain and she holds them firm as she breaks her lips away from his.

“Stay… fucking… still.” She commands, hissing between her teeth as she loosens her grip on his hands in order to bring hers between them. His eyes are half lidded, and she brings one hand to his throat again as she leans up off him to start unbuttoning his shirt with the other. “Understand?”

He nods, and that’s enough for her. She brings her hands away and shucks his shirt off and leans back in, teeth locking onto his throat to leave bites and hickeys down the column of his muscle. Sucking the skin between her teeth on his collar, she bites down hard enough that she feels his chest heave, and his hands begin to move. Jonah backs up again, and eyes him. It only takes one glare and he freezes back into position. Satisfied that he won’t move, Jonah drags her hands down his chest, momentarily taking in his chest and how he’s changed. Sloth is carved into his chest and she can’t spare more than a passing thought on why it’s on his chest. He’s got more tattoos too, but she can’t spend much time on them either. This isn’t about getting to know him again. This is angry, and not loving. This is cruel, and her nails dig into his chest as they trail down his skin. He hisses and bucks against her, and she moves her hips down enough that he hits her in just the right spot. Her head leans back, an airy moan escaping her lips.

“Do that again.” She commands, and he does. She hates how breathless she sounds, but it feels so good to have him under her again, and she tries not to compare it to what they had before. With what power she has within herself, she makes a quick decision that she doesn’t have to keep asking him to do things. He’s letting her, not fighting back, and she takes what she can. Grinding down against him, she quickly takes her shirt off, needs to touch herself. She’s yanking it off, and hears buttons pop but she doesn’t care. Her bra follows and then she’s cupping her breasts as she grinds against him, pinching her nipples in time with each move her hips make. He groans under her, and she spares him a glance.

“Let me touch you, please, Jonah. Please.” He’s equally breathless, and in that moment she can’t tell him no. Nodding with her head leaning back, he surges upward the moment that she gives him permission, and then his hands are all over her, one going to her left nipple to relieve her, the other moving directly to his jeans to unbuckle his belt. He’s moving fast, and she moves faster, getting her pants unbuttoned and lifting herself up just enough to get them down her legs. The moment they’re off, he’s pulling her back to him, having gotten his just down to his ankles. His movements are frantic, and he’s straining against his underwear, and it’s in that moment she realizes how wet she is. She wants him so badly, it’s been so long. Her hands come back up to cup his face and dig into his beard to yank his mouth to hers. Her lips move sloppily against his, and his hands are moving to cup her ass and force her against him. She bites down on his lip, hard enough that a coppery taste fills her mouth. Vaguely she notes that it’s blood, that she’s made him bleed but she can’t care because he’s taking her underwear off, and then yanking his down enough, just enough.

Then he’s in her, and it feels like time stops. Neither of them move at first, the only movement between them their chests heaving.

“John…” She whispers, and the world is finally catching up with her.

“Don’t, Jonah. Just… don’t.” Then he’s moving, and she doesn’t. She hasn’t been celibate since she left him, but that doesn’t mean she’s been having sex left and right, and that certainly hasn’t been the case since she’s been in Hope County. She’s out of practice enough that it stretches her in a way that burns, and she loves it. He’s chasing his bliss carefully, thrusting into her slowly, and she relishes the slow drag of him in and out of her body. His hands wrap around her back and he leans his face down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard as he thrusts into her. His beard itches against her skin but she can’t care because it’s been so long, and pressure is building in her lower belly. She meets his thrust, the force doing her good. One hand snakes between them to rub at her clit. It takes a moment, but his hand meets hers there, and nudges her out of the way and he takes over like he’s never forgotten. Maybe he never has. She can’t focus because with every thrust of his that she meets, she’s closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

She doesn’t realize she’s panting his name until she crests with one deep thrust from him, his hips knocking into hers. She throws her head back and squeezes her eyes shut, and clenches down on him. His head is resting on her chest as he thrusts into her once, twice, three more times before he’s coming with a groan, and she feels him twitching inside of her. Sweat drips from him to her, rolls down her chest, and her hands come up to come his neck.

It’ll all come crashing down around her, she’s sure, but in the moment all she can think about is the feel of his skin on hers, and what a stupid mistake she’s just made.


End file.
